A Mission Gone Wrong
by sunniebelle
Summary: Under the command of Mr. Dylan Sharp, a top-secret mission in enemy territory goes awry and Gaven Matthews is forced to deal with the consequences. (Story rewritten)
1. Chapter 1

Gaven Matthews stood at the mouth of the _Leviathan's_ open cargo-hold door, the hot wind tossing his auburn hair about wildly. His green eyes were focused on the rocky ground slowly passing beneath the airbeast. The widely varying terrain of the Ottoman empire lay below, its vibrant colors and bustling activities were a wonder to behold from the air.

As the sun touched the horizon, the hazy sky turned a dark blue, shades of purple and orange randomly streaking across it. However, the beauty around them was wasted on Matthews.

In a matter of minutes, he and two other shipmates—Thomas Robbins and James Spenser—would be led by Midshipman Dylan Sharp on a secret mission. As far as Gaven understood, the only one who knew exactly why they were headed on this mission was Mr. Sharp, their commanding officer. He thought it a squick odd to be under the command of a lowly midshipman.

However, everyone aboard had heard of the way Mr. Sharp had risked his own life to save Midshipman Newkirk during the battle of the Dauntless. He figured that there were worse people that could be in command. Gaven sternly told himself that the young man's rank shouldn't matter, considering the fact that Mr. Sharp was a decorated officer and a brave young soldier. Not to mention, he was a fellow Scotsman.

Matthews shifted his mind to the task at hand, which was to get from the airbeast to the ground safely. After all, a keelhaul drop was a risky maneuver and required one's full concentration.

He heard Mr. Sharp ask if they were ready and the three of them gave swift nods.

He felt the airship slow a few moments later and the bosun, Mr. Rigby, said, "Twenty seconds, I'd say."

"Clip your lines!" Ordered Mr. Sharp and the men obeyed. They watched the terrain slowly slide past—it changed from tall palm trees to scattered dots of scrub grass and rock, finally switching to flat stretches of light brown sand.

Coming into view below them was the Sphinx, a natural rock formation and the signal for the landing party to drop.

"Get ready, lads." Mr. Sharp told them. "Three, two, one…" The four of them jumped from the airship and slid down their lines, swiftly descending toward the earth.

Mathews' heart was pounding loudly as he felt the rope slip through his safety clip with a distinct hissing sound, accompanied by heat from the friction on the cable. He chanced a quick glance at the other three as the ground rose to meet them.

It was coming at them fast; too fast for his liking. Gaven did what he had been taught and attached a secondary clip to his line, in order to slow his descent. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw the other men doing the same.

A moment later there was a sway in his line from the airbeast's engines slowing a squick. This forced their ropes to swing forward and then slowly backward, making the four of them almost stall in midair and hover a few yards above the ground.

"Now!" Mr. Sharp shouted and all four of them removed the secondary clip from their lines.

With a sudden lurch they were swiftly dropping to the ground, like rocks in a pond. It was a textbook keelhaul drop and everything was going perfectly.

That is, until Matthews' feet hit the ground with a bone jarring thud.

He landed where a rock protruded from the sand. It was in the perfect spot for his foot to land wrong. His right ankle twisted sharply with a sickening, creaking sound.

Gaven tried to keep his feet, but still ended up on his bum. His cable whisked through his safety clip and lashed out at him before slithering across the beach with the others. He assumed the crewmen on the airship would be hauling the lines up into the cargo-hold any moment now.

For a brief moment his adrenaline kept him from feeling the pain in his ankle. However, it was beginning to protest fiercely, making sure he knew of its injured status.

"Everyone alright?" Mr. Sharp called to the group.

Mathews heard his comrades answer, "Aye, sir."

Gaven swallowed against the pain in his ankle, resolving that he was not going to let a wee twisted ankle make him look like a ninny.

As Matthews attempted to stand though, he could not keep from letting out a soft groan. He rolled into a ball as he fell back to the ground, grasping his throbbing ankle.

Gaven saw Mr. Sharp move quickly toward his position on the sandy peninsula.

Knowing he had to be honest, he informed his commander through clenched teeth, "It's my ankle, sir. I've turned it."

"All right. Let's see if you can stand." Mr. Sharp said, then called for the other men.

Mr. Sharp turned away and slipped off his pack, stooping to check on whatever was hidden inside. Then he quickly closed the pack, not letting anyone catch so much of a glimpse of the top-secret contents it held.

Gaven felt a squick of vexation at himself and the predicament he was putting the team in.

 _No twisted ankle will bloody-well keep me from completing the mission_ , the Scotsman told himself sternly. His body had other plans, however.

Robbins and Spencer stood him up and Matthews placed his right foot on the ground. As much as he tried, he couldn't hold back a cry of pain. He swallowed hard, not wanting to consider the possibility that he was more seriously injured than he had thought.

"Set him down." Mr. Sharp ordered, then let out a slow breath.

Matthews could see the truth in his commander's face—his ankle was stuffed. There was no way that he could possibly walk across the two miles of rocky peninsula and back. If they tried to take him along, he would slow them down and make it more likely for them all to get caught.

Dread filled Gavin's heart and he wished that he could turn back time and redo the landing, repositioning his feet slightly so that he missed that barking rock in the sand.

He was compromising everything right now!

"You'll have to wait here, Matthews." Mr. Sharp said, sounding apologetic but firm.

Gaven nodded and said, "Aye, sir. But when are they picking us up?"

His commander hesitated in answering and finally said, "I can't tell you, Matthews. Just wait here and don't let anyone see you."

Gaven understood why Mr. Sharp wasn't saying when the Leviathan was returning. If he or the other men were captured, then the Ottomans couldn't set a trap for the airbeast.

He nodded and unconsciously shifted his ankle, making it smart painfully and he couldn't help but wince a wee bit.

"Trust me, the Captain won't leave us behind." Mr. Sharp said reassuringly.

Spenser and Robbins half-carried Matthews to a crop of rocks that he could hide behind, which was well away from the beach. This kept him out of sight of the water a few yards away and any enemy soldiers that might be patrolling the area. They gave him most of the water and some bully beef.

Soon the three men were headed down the ridge, leaving Gaven all alone.

As he watched and then listened to the three men move away, Matthews couldn't hold back the wave of loneliness and a squick of fear—both of which he pushed down fiercely.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Gaven would likely be alone for hours, but at least he was no longer hindering the mission. Soon enough the men and the _Leviathan_ would be back.

His job now was to stay quiet and hidden.

* * *

 **Note: This story takes place in the second half of chapter 23 and 24 in Behemoth (book two of the Leviathan trilogy). I hope it was enjoyable!**

 **All credit goes to the amazing Mr. Scott Westerfeld!**


	2. Chapter 2

Gaven Matthews was lying behind the large boulders that supplied him with his temporary hiding place. His head was pillowed on his arm and his right leg was propped on his pack. His ankle still hurt a wee bit, from twisting it wrong during the keelhaul drop.

All traces of the sun had long since abandoned the sky, hiding its face until morning. It was fairly dark, with there being very little moonlight and the clouds blocking out the majority of light from the stars overhead.

Gaven had been waiting for his comrades and the _Leviathan_ to return for an hour or so, his throbbing ankle and myriad of thoughts helping to keep him awake.

He daydreamed about his family, what they might be doing at that moment. He calculated the time difference in his head, thinking it must be close to bed time.

He pictured his wife getting ready for and climbing into bed. He longed to be there with her, pulling her close and kissing her goodnight.

Gaven had been married to a wonderful woman for twelve years now, and every day he felt lucky that she had said yes to him. She was a wonderful partner, a true soulmate.

He closed his eyes and pictured Marianne; her glittering brown eyes and long black hair, her tall, slender figure and soft, pale skin. She was a beautiful, but striking contrast to his rusty-red hair and green eyes, tall and sturdy frame, work-roughened hands and sun-darkened skin.

He longed to hold her in his arms and pictured himself doing so. He hoped she could feel his arms around her at that moment, as much as he could.

Gaven shifted his mind to his child.

For years he and Marianne had tried to have children, but their attempts had ended in sorrow. They had been heartbroken when Marianne miscarried the first two times, but they were truly devastated when their third, a beautiful little boy with red curly hair, was a stillborn.

When Gaven and Marianne were warned by doctors that it would be dangerous to continue trying to have children, they had begun to lose hope.

After years of trying and three tragically lost babies, they began to think that they would never be able to have children.

Miraculously though, Marianne had conceived and successfully given birth at the end of September, the previous year. They had marveled for days at their beautiful, healthy baby girl, who had inherited Marianne's dark hair and fine features.

They named her Hanna Mari, because she truly was their beloved miracle.

 _She's probably learning to walk now_ , he wistfully thought to himself and tried to picture it in his mind's eye. He saw himself holding her tiny fingers as she used his hands to help her balance. A dazzling smile would be on her perfect, little face as she tested her wobbly and unsteady legs. He could almost hear her infectious laughter.

His heart felt heavy as he considered how much of his daughter's first months of life he was missing. He yearned to hold her and his wife.

It had been very hard to leave his family at the start of the war, knowing what he was leaving behind. However, he had a duty to perform and took great pride in protecting his family and his country. He also knew that his parents would take good care of his wife and daughter while he was away.

Gaven heard something and, suddenly, he was brought out of his reverie. His mind went immediately into soldier-mode.

He thought he had heard human voices. Gaven took slow and even breaths through his mouth, listening intently. In the distance he could make out the sounds of men's voices, very faint.

Then he heard...oh, no!

His breath caught and then his heart started to race.

It was dogs barking; two, if not more.

Dogs would be able to smell him and would lead the soldiers right to him. Gaven hoped that the animals would somehow miss his scent and pass on by his hiding place.

Matthews stayed motionless and silent for what seemed like an eternity, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart.

Several minutes passed by and he could hear the men's voices more clearly. There were several of them, at least five for sure.

They were talking in a language that was unfamiliar to him. As they got closer, Gaven tried to determine if it was German, like what he had heard the Clanker prisoners speak on the _Leviathan_. It didn't sound like that, so he assumed it was probably Turkish or another local language spoken in Istanbul.

Gaven tried to make a plan of action. He was certainly outnumbered and would only get shot if he tried to fight back or surprise them. Plus, gunfire would draw attention and bring even more soldiers. With his ankle being injured, there was no running to another place to hide. All he could do was pray they would miss the scent and pass on by him.

Suddenly there was a chorus of barks, howls and men shouting. Gaven's pulse quickened and his breath caught in his throat. He could see the flash of electrikal lights flickering in different directions on the far side of the boulders, near the water.

Gaven heard the shuffle of feet on the sand headed toward him, the shouts and barks getting closer. He tried to duck lower behind the rocks, but knew it was pointless.

In a matter of seconds, there were about a half-dozen Ottoman soldiers surrounding him. Their electrikal lights temporarily blinded him and ripped away the darkness of his hiding place.

When his eyes adjusted, he found himself staring down the barrels of several rifles and pistols, aimed directly at him. Behind the weapons were stern faces, though he also glimpsed a few angry ones as well.

A man held back two dogs, which barked and lunged against their thick leashes at Gaven.

He raised his hands slowly, in surrender, not wanting to do anything to make the dogs attack or the men use their guns.

One of the soldiers spoke in heavily-accented, but clear English, "Who are you? Why are you here?"

Gaven pointed a finger at his right ankle and said "Injured." He said nothing more, not wanting to reveal anything that might expose the Leviathan's or his comrade's plans or location. He was suddenly grateful that he had not been told the sensitive details of the mission, but he was still determined to say as little as possible.

The soldier looked at Gaven's ankle and then said something in the foreign language to the other men.

The dogs were pulled away a bit, but several of the men still had guns pointed at him. Two of the soldiers holstered their pistols and quickly disarmed Gaven, removing all of his weapons and his pack from his reach.

The two soldiers helped him to his feet, but quickly tied his hands behind his back. He didn't dare put any weight on his ankle; it had already started to throb spitefully, gravity pulling the blood to the affected area.

The man who had spoken to him earlier asked him a stream of questions. Who was he? What was he doing there? Were there others? What militant group was he with? And on the questions went.

Gaven stayed silent, not answering any of their questions. Even when one Ottoman soldier struck him hard across the face, he resolved to stay silent. He wasn't going to give away his comrades positions or do anything that could lead these soldiers to them and jeopardize the mission, more than he already had.

The men all looked frustrated with him, like they were ready to put a bullet through him. He hoped they would not do so. He could take some blows, but he didn't like the thought of never seeing his family again, or of making his wife a widow and his child fatherless.

One of the soldiers—and from the patches on his uniform, Gaven assumed him to be a ranking officer—said something to his men. Before Matthews could react, the soldiers holding his arms led him forward, none too gently.

Gaven hobbled forward, being forced to put pressure on his ankle or fall on his face. He winced with each step, but he stifled any cry of pain, although it took great effort.

The dogs, which he recognized as German Shepherds, excitedly followed a scent trail along the peninsula, their noses close to the ground. Gaven had seen the soldiers letting the dogs get a good whiff of his pack and canteen, so he assumed the dogs were now locked onto the scents of Sharp, Robbins and Spenser.

Matthews stayed silent, knowing the dogs and their handlers might be misled and lose his comrades scent, or at least, he had confidence in this possibility.

He dared to hope the soldiers would be led off course and away from the goal of the mission, the Dardanelles strait. However, the dogs kept picking up fresh scent trails that zigzagged along the peninsula of Gallipoli.

Gaven's heart sank every time the dogs would suddenly surge forward, their excited barks and howls filling the night and breaking through the silence.

As Gaven was forced to hobble down the path that his commanding officer and comrades had likely taken, he hoped that they would see or hear the soldiers coming. Perhaps they would swim the strait to the other side, so the Ottoman's dogs couldn't follow them; then they could double back, to reach the Sphinx.

He was willing to sacrifice his own freedom and safety—especially if it meant the mission, whatever it might be, could be completed and the other men could safely reach the _Leviathan_.

Suddenly one of the soldiers shoved him forward—he had evidently paused for too long—and Gaven stumbled forward. His tired and throbbing ankle gave way, refusing to hold his weight any more. With his hands tied behind his back, he couldn't catch himself. He wound up falling face first into the rock hard earth.

He felt suddenly dizzy and could feel blood, from a cut on his forehead, trickle down his face. He couldn't get up on his own and felt too despondent to try.

One of the officers helped him sit up. Gaven looked at the man and thought he saw a look of pity in the man's eyes. The soldier took out a pocket handkerchief, knelt before him and dabbed at the cut over Gaven's eye until it stopped bleeding.

Then the man said something in the unfamiliar language to one of the other officers, who promptly handed over a canteen of water. Gaven was appreciative for the man's momentary kindness and drank gratefully.

He figured that the group had traveled close to two miles and he assumed they were quickly approaching Gallipoli, since he could hear the water slapping against the shore.

As Gaven was gruffly helped up by a different, less kind soldier, he could see from his peripheral vision another Ottoman soldier behind him. A gun was pointed at Gaven's chest and a fierce look resided on the man's face.

The soldier was ready to fire, if Mathews chose to do something stupid.

Gaven swallowed and hoped that his wife and daughter were safe. He prayed that he would, perhaps one day, get to see and hold them again.

* * *

 **Note: I chose the name Hanna Mari because the name Hanna means "miracle or gift" and Mari means "beloved."**

 **I hope the story is enjoyable! All credit goes to the amazing Scott Westerfeld!**


	3. Chapter 3

The group of Ottoman soldiers lead the bound Gaven Matthews along the shores of Kilye Niman. Gaven was thankful for the soldier's electrikal lights, since the clouds were blocking what little light the moon and stars were giving off. The ground was sandy now that they were near the water and the waves slapped against the shore in a steady, relaxing pattern.

However, Gaven felt anything but relaxed. His right ankle—injured during the keelhaul drop—was painful and swollen after being forced to walk two miles. Plus, his head hurt from where he had fallen in the rock-hard earth moments before. But worst of all was the knot in the pit of his stomach.

Matthews kept playing out scenarios in his head, wondering what would happen if his comrades and commanding officer were caught. All he could hope for was that they had heard the soldiers coming and had managed to hide; or better yet, swam to the other side of the Dardanelles strait to safety.

Gaven suddenly felt a slight tremor in the sand, as though something large was moving ahead of them. Then he glimpsed what had caused it. He couldn't help the gasp of shock and surprise that escaped his lips.

Waiting for them, dead ahead, was a giant machine in the shape of a scorpion. Its six metal legs and two large, grasping claws were unnerving, to say the least. It had a long, curled tail that was both a search light and a machine gun, all in one.

Gaven's eyes traveled over the horrific-looking walker. He suddenly had a new found understanding of the nervous feelings that some people—Monkey Luddite's they were sometimes called—got around fabricated beasties. He felt true fear as he watched the monstrous machine plod across the sand. Each step its saber-like legs took caused the ground to shake under their feet.

Gaven watched its search light scanning the rocks, trees and other shadowy places where his comrades and commanding officer, might be hiding.

The beam of light suddenly illuminated the figure of a man as it swung past. He held his breath as the light quickly backtracked, exposing the man's hiding place. The German Shepherd's must have seen or smelt the man as well, since they lunged excitedly against their leashes with vicious barks and growls.

Gaven recognized the silhouette as James Spencer and saw him start to run. One of the soldiers fired and a column of dirt sprayed into the air, mere inches from Spencer's feet.

Wisely, he stopped, raising his hands in surrender. Several soldiers hurried toward him, guns aimed at his back and prepared to fire, if need be.

They shoved Spencer to the ground and disarmed him, removing his pack and gruffly tying his hands behind him, just as they had done with Matthews a couple of hours ago.

They moved Spencer to where Gaven was being held, both men now under armed guard and in enemy hands. The two prisoners looked at each other, seeing the despairing look in the other's eyes. This mission had just taken disastrous turn for the worst.

There was a shout from one of the soldiers, causing Matthews and Spencer to whip their heads around.

Without warning, the tip of the scorpion walker's machine gun exploded to life. Bullets flew into the trees, whipping the branches in all directions. Clods of dirt flew into the air, while smoke escaped the tip of the machine gun. The noise of the murderous gun was deafening, but a moment later it was silenced.

Gaven held his breath—his stomach twisting with dread—as several soldiers stormed into the trees. The prisoners looked on, in horror, as a body was dragged across the sand.

The scorpion walker moved forward and one of its giant claws reached out. It callously picked up the limp, blood-stained body of Mr. Robbins, displaying him in the air for all to see.

 _No!_ Gaven's thoughts screamed and he suddenly felt sick. He couldn't take his eyes from his friend's lifeless body.

He suddenly recalled a conversation between Robbins and himself, a few weeks ago. Thomas Robbins, a beaming and proud smile splitting the man's face, had told Gaven that he received wonderful news. Robbins' wife had given birth to a baby boy; it was their third child, but their first boy and his namesake.

Gaven felt grief explode in his heart as he thought of Robbins' family—his wife was now a widow and his children, fatherless.

Gaven couldn't help but feel responsible for all of this. If he had not twisted his ankle on that blasted rock! _None_ of this should have happened!

He hung his head in despair and a single tear rolled down his cheek. He swallowed hard to prevent more from following, but allowed that one for his friend.

A few minutes later, a thought slowly crept its way into Matthews' numbed and exhausted brain. The Ottoman soldiers had not found his commanding officer.

Mr. Sharp was still out there somewhere!

The soldiers were headed back toward the two British airmen, the walker following with Robbins' lifeless body still gripped within its claw.

Gaven didn't dare survey the water or any of the area. If he began looking for Mr. Sharp, however surreptitiously it might be, the action might alert the soldiers that they had missed a man.

As the soldiers forced Matthews and Spencer to their feet, Gaven thought he saw the head of a man popping up from the surface of the water, then disappear. He could have been imagining things, but he hoped that what he had seen was Mr. Sharp fleeing.

Hopefully, Midshipman Dylan Sharp had been able to complete his secret mission. Perhaps the airman would be able to get to safety and then to the _Leviathan_ and relay what had happened.

Gaven and Spencer followed the Ottoman soldiers, not sure where they were being taken or what would happen to them. He hoped the Ottoman military would not treat them too roughly, or God forbid, kill them.

Perhaps, if the Darwinists won this war, they would be released and he and Spencer could once again see their families.

He dared to hope. After all, he had a good reason to hope. Two of them in fact.

 _I promise you both_ , he said in his heart to Marianne and Hanna Mari, _one day I will return to you. One day, I will see and hold you both again._

* * *

 **I hope this story was enjoyable!**

 **All credit goes to the amazing Mr. Scott Westerfeld!**


	4. Chapter 4

Gaven Matthews had finally made it back to Scotland. He walked along the winding dirt road that led to his home, but a permanent limp in his right leg made his trek slow. He used this time to admire his surroundings.

It was early morning, the sun just starting to rise over the distant mountains. The eastern sky glowed with various shades of yellow, pink and blue.

He passed groves of trees and lambs dotting the glen, while birds called to each other from above. The green grass was sprinkled with purple and blue from the spear thistles and bluebells that grew. He warmly regarded the familiar sights, smells and sounds around him.

However, his mind was on the last few months, as it usually was these days.

After being taken prisoner in Istanbul, he and James Spencer had been interrogated at a local prison. Both men had stayed quiet, resolutely refusing to utter a word to the Ottoman soldiers. Ultimately, the Ottomans had determined that the two men were from the Leviathan, but only because of their gear. Needless to say, their captors had been furious and efforts to get them to talk had escalated. Both men had stayed strong, but their silence had cost them—hence, his permanent limp.

Now the war was finally winding down.

He had heard that a Clanker prince switched sides in the war and aided the Darwinists in a battle against some kind of Clanker invasion in New York. This attack on neutral American soil had evidently convinced the Americans to join the war. The Clanker Powers had ultimately admitted defeat. It was rumored that, soon, there would be a Peace conference in Austria.

These events in turn resulted in him finally being released to the British government. Sadly, his comrade, Mr. Spencer, had died of pneumonia a couple of weeks before they had been released. His heart was still heavy over the events that had led to their capture and to the death of his comrades.

Gavin suddenly shoved all thoughts about the war, his comrades, and the terrible months as a prisoner from his mind.

His house was coming into view, but he was still a ways from it. He could see the small dwelling situated on the hill before him. The dark-green trim of the roof and windows complemented the rusty-red bricks, which stood out against the horizon. Smoke drifted lazily from the chimney, the soft breeze sending whiffs of it back toward him. The familiar smells of home were invigorating.

His heart skipped a beat, but then thundered wildly in his chest, when he glimpsed the outline of his beautiful wife kneeling in the garden. His pace quickened.

Marianne must have seen him moving along the road, because she slowly stood to her feet, as though in a daze.

He had moved close enough to make out small details about her. The way the wind ruffled her long black hair and her dark green dress, the widening of her brown eyes as she realized that the person on the road was her husband.

He watched as her hand quickly covered her mouth. He was too far away to see if there were any tears on her face, but he imagined there probably were.

Suddenly she was flinging open the small gate in the fence surrounding the garden, running with all her might towards him.

He dropped his ruck sack and—painful leg or not—he started running as quickly as he could toward her.

Within seconds Marianne was flinging herself into Gaven's arms, their bodies colliding with enough force to nearly knock him over.

Suddenly she was kissing him fiercely. He could taste their tears as they both cried, neither wanting to let the other go. Her arms were wound securely around his neck and his arms circled her waist, lifting her off the ground and holding her tightly against him.

Through her quiet sobs and desperate kisses he heard her say, "I took you for dead! I was so afraid I'd never see you again!"

"I'm so sorry Marianne! I'm here. I'm here, sweetheart!" Was all he could manage to get out as he continued to kiss her. One of his hands came up to cradle the back of her head, holding her even more tightly to him as he kissed her deeply, cutting off anything else she was about to say.

A few moments later they parted slightly, both panting hard, but their foreheads still touched. Their eyes were closed, but tears still occasionally fell.

Gaven relished the feel of her hands caressing him, feeling him all over as though she was searching to make sure he was whole.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?" She asked worriedly, confirming his thoughts.

"Aye, I'm alright, Marianne. I'm more than alright, now that you're in my arms!" He said as he hugged her tightly. Her fingers ran through his long, unruly hair, sending shivers down his spine. A few minutes later, he separated from her a few inches.

"Let's go to the house. I'm dying to hold my little Hanna Mari!" He whispered.

"She should be getting up anytime now. You'll never believe how much she's grown!" Marianne said with a smile, slipping her arm around his waist.

After collecting his ruck sack, they walked toward the house, arm in arm. Marianne kept looking down at his leg, obviously wondering about his noticeable limp—but she didn't ask about it and he didn't bring it up.

With Marianne's arm around him and the familiar scents of home drifting in the wind, he was filled him with comfort and a peace he had not felt in ages.

* * *

Gaven spent several hours reacquainting his daughter with who he was. He marveled at how much Hanna Mari had grown while he was away.

She walked, a bit unsteadily at times, around the room collecting her favorite toys or books to show him and to play with. He reveled in the scent and softness of her baby skin; the delicateness of her small body in his arms, as he listened to her jabber unintelligible nonsense to him and drool charmingly.

Later that day, he couldn't hold back his sob when—for the first time he had ever heard—she called him "Da". He got the pleasure that night of holding her close and rocking her to sleep, for the first time in months.

Late that night, long after Hanna Mari had gone to sleep, he stood next to her bed simply watching her sleep. For several long moments, he marveled at the amazing feeling of being home. It was something he had begun to think would never happen.

He felt Marianne's slender arms wrap around him, hugging him from behind.

"It's good to be home." He whispered, his hands coming up to cover hers.

He turned his head and they shared a slow, deep kiss. Finally he turned around and scooped her into his arms.

Her smile was huge as he carried her to their bedroom. They had their own time that night to be _reacquainted_ with each other.

A while later they lay in bed, Marianne snuggled against him as they talked.

He told her some of the things that had happened while he was on the _Leviathan_ and afterward of when he was taken prisoner. However, there was a lot he left out or simply refused to talk about.

"I'm sorry about all you went through and the deaths of your friends." She said softly. A tear escaped as she continued. "But, I won't lie. It is wonderful to have you home again."

Gaven buried his face in her neck and hair as he held her close, reveling in her scent and the feel of her touch.

He had wondered so many times why he had survived, when his comrades did not.

Now, after holding his child earlier and holding Marianne now, he knew why. It was because Gaven had promised them that he would return. It was because they _needed_ him.

He hugged her tightly to himself.

"You should know Marianne, that I was given a medical discharge from the British Air Service." Gaven said softly. This got Marianne's attention and she just stared at him.

He gave her a gentle smile. "You won't be getting rid of me for a long time."

She suddenly kissed him, very passionately. No words were needed for him to understand what she meant by it.

They would be together for a long, long time indeed.

* * *

 **Note: I hope you enjoyed this story, as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

 **All credit goes to the amazing Scott Westerfeld!**


End file.
